


Jade

by mechanonymouse



Series: Slytherin Hermione [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, POV Third Person Limited, Slytherin Hermione, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-03-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:08:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23243782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mechanonymouse/pseuds/mechanonymouse
Relationships: Harry Potter & Percy Weasley, Hermione Granger & Harry Potter & Ron Weasley
Series: Slytherin Hermione [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1646482
Comments: 13
Kudos: 59





	1. The Start of A New Year

Summer after her first year was good but odd. She was on edge the entire time, waiting for curses that never came. She couldn’t talk to her parents about anything more important than the weather. They didn’t have the frame of reference to understand. This wasn’t just when they didn’t initially understand that she did like random strangers touching her hair but they listened to her and came to understand. They couldn’t understand the basics of the world she spent the last eight months in and they couldn’t engage. Whenever they looked like they might show an interest a blank look would spread over their faces. 

She got four pieces of post from Hogwarts or people she knew from Hogwarts over the summer. Exam results in mid-July - placing her first in the year, new supply lists in mid-August - including a week of detention with Filch for cheating from Snape, and two notes from Potter in his meticulous careful writing that was still badly smudged. 

The first was just the line ‘Muggle summers suck’ and seemed to invite correspondence to distract him but she received no reply until the second arrive. This one was longer, ‘My mail’s been redirected. None received this summer.’ and made her feel less awkward about letters she had sent him. Both of Potter’s letters were delivered by a gorgeous snowy owl who waited in the big oak tree outside her window for a reply and arrived without a letter in the middle of the summer and demanded on to return with. She sent him two letters in response to the first. One condensing everything she could find out about the Dark Lord he supposedly defeated into a foot of parchment with contradictions highlighted, including information from texts she’d only seen in Slytherin common room and someone’s notes she’d found in the desk in her room, a dubious source but they’d highlighted the same inconsistencies as her. The second of suggestions to work round the increasingly complex wand movements required for charms from her own research into African wandless traditions and filched rehabilitation texts off her parents. Not a loss though, she always kept copies of her correspondence, the first letter was just her own notes minus her suppositions and the research had been interesting for the second.

The first letter from Hogwarts was the only time she and her parents connected over the summer. They don’t understand the way Wizarding exams are marked but they understood McGonagall’s reluctant concession that she had, despite her propensity to fighting, achieved the highest score in her year. Their eyes skipped over the comment about fighting, whatever control charm has been placed on them stopping them from objecting to anything about her education at Hogwarts. Hermione’s parents rewarded her with five new magical books, and their lack of understanding allowed her to order them from places other than the Hogwart’s approved supplier Flourish and Blotts. She got a book on Uagadou, a Wizarding school in Africa located very close to the orphanage in Kitgum she was adopted from, one on the wandless traditions from Central Africa with practical exercises, another on self-transfiguration, a beginners alchemy text, and a book of blood magic that would be illegal if it had been published in Britain or she’d bought it from a British shop she later discovered. British Wizarding law is full of delightful loopholes to let purebloods keep their dark objects and teach their children what they think mudbloods shouldn’t know, that a determined mudblood can exploit.

Her parents took exactly five days of leave over the summer otherwise working and leaving her to her own devices in a sleepy village with nothing for a teen to do. Unlike her former classmates, she spent her summer studying borderline illegal blood and wandless magic rather than discovering illegal drugs. They travelled to France for their annual holiday and left her to her own devices as much as they did at home. 

It was a happy week. She explored the Wizarding area of Nice while her parents sunbathed and tasted too wine. Her holiday money was changed to Wizarding money the first day there and she was so deep in magical areas no one could tell the difference between her casting and an adult Wizard. France is less restrictive of magic than Britain but more restrictive on Muggle interactions. Swings and roundabouts, she shrugged. The new books were nice, full of nasty spells for her trunk and room, and good practice for her French. She was distressed to discover it had lapsed severely while she was at Hogwarts and brought a subscription to the French National Wizarding newspaper to prevent it from relapsing.

When she travelled to Diagon Alley alone - nominally with an older cousin but they separated at Victoria and she wasn’t there when Hermione gets on the train back to Kent - something motivated her to bring and copy her version of the two letters she sent Potter. 

The new book list was a disappointment; seven at best autobiographies, at worst works of complete fiction as well as the standard texts. If she hadn’t bought a trunk with a dedicated library section none of her self study texts would fit. The new DADA teacher was either a fan or the author, who was more of a narcissist than the works suggest, but at least they were available cheap from a second hand shop and her parents gave her money for all seven full price so she enjoyed a fruitful expedition. She came away with a book on the Animagi transformation, British Magical law, a small black text on the Art of Mind Magic, and more barely legal books of curses. If she was going to survive the Snake Pit then she needed to be better or more brutal than everyone else. She missed the excitement of the Malfoy and Weasley families brawling in Flourish and Blotts. Hogwarts supply lists go out the second week of August traditionally, according to Hogwarts: A History, and her trip was planned before the lists came out. Whatever the new DADA professor required she would need to buy the standard course books not reuse books already in the family.

The Prophet documented their scuffle though, a big photo of Lockhart - who was that much of a narcissist - and a waif like Potter on the front page announcing Lockhart as their new DADA teacher and inside a delightfully spiteful article by Rita Skeeter and accompanying photo of Lucius Malfoy and the Wesley patriarch brawling like Muggles. She smiled cruelly when she first saw it; that should haunt Malfoy and kill Weasley’s patronising Muggle Protection Bill.

The rest of the holidays were a haze of reading and preparing before sliding on to the train as it arrived and charming a carriage to be unnoticeable. 

The very late arrival of the Weasleys and Potter overrode her spells, the Weasley twins depositing their younger brother, sister and the boy hero with her. 'You still to “Assist Potter’, Granger?” one of them asked, doing a scarily accurate impression of Professor Snape. She nodded once scowling at him and he hexed her before they left. 

She dodged the spell and waved off Potter’s apologies. Sitting back down and pulling out the two letters for Potter from her book bag. 'You said your post was diverted.’ she explains.

He smiled which grew warmer as he saw the topic of the first letter. 'Why were you writing to him you—' Weasley blustered before Potter interrupted.

'About Voldemort.' Potter replied having flicked to the second. 'Thanks. McGonagall said you’d be sharing all my classes with me this year.' he seemed happy about that. Weasley grumped and the Weasley girl hadn’t stopped looking uncomfortable but she’d got a diary out from her bag and was writing. A ink bottle was precariously perched next to her.

Something about that diary wasn’t right, but that was none of her business. More importantly she’s sat next to the littlest Weasley and that open ink bottle is far too close, Hermione thought casting a spell to prevent the ink from spilling. Both of the Weasleys huff. 

'What you wanted to spill ink all over the carriage?' she asked, getting the book she had been reading back out.

Potter tried to make conversation but it’s made awkward by Weasley Minimus’s inability to talk to Potter or not go bright red when he interacts with her, Weasley Minor’s inability to say anything polite to Hermione and Hermione’s general unfamiliarity with conversations that don’t involve academics or her being cursed. Instead they fall into silence that felt strained. Weasley Minimus’s attention was caught by the Muggle journal she was writing in the entire eight hour journey. Even Hermione can’t read or write uninterrupted for that long. For the first couple of hours she, Potter and Weasley Minor tried to read: her a complicated treatise on self-transfiguration, Weasley a battered book on flying he defaced as he read and Potter her letters, but Potter kept trying to discreetly rub his scar. He may once have been capable of such things but now fine control of his arms requires care and concentration for them to do what he wants and even then he’s not always successful. She and Weasley Minor were very aware that Potter was in pain. Weasley Minor fretted and fidgeted for an hour longer than she expected before abruptly announcing he was going to the toilet. Potter’s scar was an angry red from the pale pink it had been when he entered the carriage and she wondered if it would open and bleed like it did in DADA last year.

Weasley Minor came back with the senior Weasley at Hogwarts looking less concerned. Weasley Senior casted a number of spells she didn’t recognise, one of which obviously gave Potter some relief then checked his temperature, 'You’ll go to see Madame Pomfrey tonight.' Weasley Senior said. Hermione made a mental note to look up healing in the Library.

'I’m fine Perce.' Harry ducked away from Wesley Senior but blinked up at him oddly pleased looking.

'Go see Madame Pomfrey or I won’t take you flying.' Weasley Senior replied, Potter looked like he wanted to smile. Looking at Hermione and Weasley Minor, Weasley Senior added, 'Come get me if he gets any worse and make sure he gets to Madame Pomfrey.' 

They nodded and spent the rest of the trip quietly playing card games. Weasley Minimus never poked her head out of her diary but Potter didn’t worsen and Weasley Minor took responsibility for getting Potter from the Great Hall to Infirmary after the feast.

It was only when she was sitting at her end of the Slytherin table that she had to encounter her Housemates properly. Notice-me-not charms are surprisingly effective when people would rather you didn’t exist but they couldn’t withstand actually sitting with her tormentors. Malfoy hissed ‘Cheat!' at her and tried to cast something sure to be unpleasant but he was obvious and Greengrass grabbed his arm keeping it on the table, her nails leaving bloody crescents in his wrist.

'How Malfoy?' she asked. 'I used the same anti-cheating quills as you and I faced the same anti-Slytherin disadvantage as you.'

He spluttered, 'Professor Snape said-'

'How?' she interrupted asking again. Her voice was clear and loud enough to carry down the table if her Housemates chose to listen but not enough for the teachers to hear and intercede. 'The bigot told the other bigot the only way a Muggle raised student could have done better than a Wizarding raised student was by cheating.' she paused to let him give her a reason other than their Head of House’s say so or to interject with something other than mudblood. 'But he couldn’t offer any proof or plausible method or McGonagall wouldn’t have begrudgingly admitted I was top in our year. So either I’m smart enough to cheat so well that neither Snape nor McGonagall could catch me or you are so dumb a filthy Muggle could score better than you.' Malfoy spluttered to a halt and she could see various people eyeing her calculatingly.

Malfoy remained silent, either seething or struggling to come up with a response until the last firstie was sorted and sat down too close to her. 'Keep away from the filth.' he sneered, 'That’s the mudblood Dumbledore forces on us. Treat it like the animal it is.'

'Muggle raised, Malfoy.' she corrected, her tone carefully bored. 'I know the distinction is difficult for your small mind to grasp.’. He opened his mouth and she casted a nasty variant of the stinging hex at him. Unlike Malfoy, she was subtle about casting and it was his howl of pain that drew their Head of House’s attention by which point her wand had disappeared back up her sleeve. 'I believe this is a form of behaviour modification you are familiar with.’. To the first year, loud enough to carry down their table to the professors, she said, 'I was adopted by Muggles just north of Buganda in 1981.’. She saw some of her Housemates make the connection she hoped. It’s not enough yet but Muggle raised they can tolerate, Muggleborn they can’t. She doesn’t need to prove she isn’t a Muggleborn, just produce enough doubt and be good enough that it is easier to accept the possibility that she isn’t and keep their prejudices.

The meal, complete and the normal start of year announcements made - no extra forbidden areas of the castle but much preening from Lockhart - they toddled off to their Houses like good little students. Hermione was sure other Heads of House had different rules but Snape’s remained first and foremost don’t make me realise you exist. 

Some of the more annoying new fourth years tried to start the year off with a rousing session of curse the mudblood but gave up when more of them were bleeding unconscious on the floor than standing. 'Muggle raised’, she corrected, enunciating carefully and not showing that their curses had affected her at all until she was safely back in her room and the door closed. All in all, a successful first evening she thinks and a good morning to look forward to with the bad night she had guaranteed Malfoy. The stinging hex variant was from a rather useful book on Good Housekeeping she’d picked up in France by Madame L. Malfoy for cultural context. Designed to punish children while leaving no trace, it creates a localised sting sensation, without the mark associated with a standard stinging hex, for one hour for each year of the child’s life at alternating severity with no counter and resistant to pain potions.

Snape cared not at all whether or when his House arrived for breakfast for all but one day of the year but on the first day of term, first through fifth year of his House were there first thing or in detention with Filch. He looked barely awake himself as he slashed his wand sending out the first and second year timetables to each student except for Hermione. Malfoy smirked, 'They finally realised you don’t belong here?’. Dark circles and bloodshot eyes contrasted his wan skin but his face had lit up with malicious glee, 'Hurry on home, mudblood.' he was saying as Snape violently cast a more directed spell sending individual timetables to the third, fourth, and fifth years and Hermione.

Potter hadn’t been kidding. A quick glance at her timetable showed she had been placed with the Gryffindors for all classes whether or not Slytherin shared the class. On Snape’s way up to the Head table he hissed at her, 'Assist Potter properly this year.'

Attending all her classes with the Gryffindors as Potter’s assistant was odd. She wasn’t seated next to him for any classes except Potions and Herbology, where she cut his ingredients and stirred or demonstrated the technique Sprout wanted them to carry out. In Charms and Transfiguration she sat ignored at the back of the class and took careful notes during the lecturing aspect of their classes which she copied for Potter, while Potter and Weasley sat at the front under Flitwick and McGonagall’s watchful gaze. If there was a casting element she cast it herself then spent the rest of the lesson working out what alterations, if any, Potter would need to be able to cast it. During that lesson Potter would attempt to cast as the class was instructed. Next lesson he would use her alterations commenting on what was possible for him to do and what worked, which would transfer to her notes. By the end of the second week she was making three copies. Potter shared with Weasley Minor whatever and sometimes his notes were insightful, she also grew to recognise Weasley Senior’s spiky handwriting. All this extra work cut into her self study time and outside Slytherin House she was more likely to be found with her head in a book of wand movements, Arithmancy or Muggle Maths, which her parents had happily provided, than the greyer books of offensive magic that bothered her teachers in first year.

She wasn’t entirely sure why Potter bothered to attend History of Magic. It was purely a lecture through which he couldn’t take notes fast enough or clearly enough to gain anything from and it is Binns, attendance was pointless anyway. If she wasn’t trying to avoid Snape remembering she existed, she’d skip. Binns has given the same lectures unchanged for fifty years and the same tests. At least Potter dedicated himself to reading the book and her notes during class. He and Weasley were surprisingly good at History when they ignored Binns and their contributions to her notes were extensive and useful. History is the class she pays least attention to intending to drop it after O.W.Ls and only aiming for an E.

She was even less certain why any of them bothered to attend Defense. After an impressively narcissistic first lesson and spectacularly bad second lesson where Lockhart proved himself incapable of handling Cornish Pixies, Defense had become a reenactment of Lockhart’s novels starring a reluctant Potter. The second lesson was notable for being the first time she and Weasley fell in either side of Potter, each trusting the other to protect their side. They’d fallen in to protect him before but neither had fully trusted the other and they had done less well as a result. Future lessons were notable for displaying just how uncomfortable Potter was with attention and how little truth was in Lockhart’s books.

The teachers were initially wary of her but by October they seemed to only realise she was not an oddly dressed Gryffindor when Gryffindor and Slytherin shared a class. They even began calling on her in class and giving points when she cast successfully first, well Gryffindor got points for her achievements but the spirit was there and it wasn’t as though she had some deeply ingrained House loyalty. 

She was also away from her Housemates most of the time, assisting Potter or in detention with Filch for neglecting her duties whenever Snape noticed her existence and she wasn’t glued to Potter’s side, something she tried hard to avoid, so she was getting cursed less. Her summer studying had been productive, when her attackers were lower than fifth year she was leaving them more damaged than she was and they were finding out their Head of House was no happier to be reminded of their existence when they went to Madame Pomfrey. All but the most determined bigots like Malfoy were beginning to reevaluate her, she expected the better connected to African politics were checking if it was possible a Wizard born infant could have ended up in a Muggle orphanage in the time and location she had implied. 

When she, Potter and Weasley Minor got caught in one of the unused classrooms near Gryffindor tower for the fifth time, Weasley Senior spoke for her giving her access to the tower before curfew while they were studying. There were no strange mysteries endangering Potter, and as a result her, and the Headmaster seemed to have gotten over his weird obsession with Potter. Overall, her second year was shaping up to be far better than first, if this kept up.


	2. The Chamber Opens

Halloween killed Hermione’s optimistic thoughts.

First, Potter and Weasley got invited to Nearly-Headless-Nick’s deathday party and decided to go, dragging her along. She warned them she’d had a week of detention with Filch for skipping the feast last Halloween but Weasley Minor argued Potter could just remind any teacher who caught them that this was the anniversary of his parent’s deaths not just the defeat, ‘Supposed’ interjected Hermione, of a dark lord to Potter. Anyway going to Nick’s party would be educational and they could practice the argument on Weasley Senior and therefore not be unaccounted for without permission. Which was how she found herself at the Gryffindor House ghost’s deathday party rather than suffering her House at a feast with an extra three feet to write for Binns he wouldn’t read.

The deathday party itself was, as promised, interesting and a far more welcome way to spend the evening than sniping with her House and trying to avoid upper years using the opportunity to practice silent casting on her but no food was served that a human could eat and only Myrtle in their age range when she died fifty years ago so they departed early with Myrtle when the tone changed. They were heading towards the kitchens to beg a light dinner from the elves when they bumped into the thing that killed Hermione’s positivity for the year.

Potter heard something that neither she nor Weasley could hear. Hearing things no one else could hear wasn’t a good sign even in the Wizarding world, especially not when what you could hear was as obviously disturbing as what Potter could hear. Potter, being a Gryffindor, rather than continuing on to the kitchens and their dinner, hared off to follow the threatening voice, Hermione and Weasley sandwiching him between them close enough to offer support if he needed it. 

The voice Potter was hearing led them to the corridor the bathroom Myrtle haunted was located. It was flooded as usual, Myrtle having bypassed them in a strop at being made to leave with the mortals was obviously doing her usual poltergeist impression. What wasn’t normal was the message dabbed on the wall and Filch’s cat hanging from a sconce. Curiosity over took common sense and Hermione approached the wall to investigate. 

'Why are you touching blood and a dead cat?' Weasley’s revolted tone was loud and carrying but it was to Hermione’s reply that the rest of the school rounded the corner and found them.

'It’s not blood.' She said rubbing the paint between her fingers, 'and Mrs   
Norris isn’t dead, she’s too warm to be this rigid.' Which was just the phrase she wanted the school to remember her by.

Pandemonium ensued and she, Potter and Weasley were herded into the nearest office with Dumbledore, Snape, McGonagall, a devastated Filch, Pomfrey and unfortunately Lockhart it being his office Dumbledore was commandeering. Dumbledore confirmed Hermione’s assessment that Mrs Norris was not dead, explaining she was merely petrified and Pomfrey, Filch, and Mrs Norris were sent off to the Infirmary. Whence upon the Dumbledore turned on them demanding an explanation for their presence and from her inspection of her wand to confirm she had nothing to do with it.

'We went to Nearly-Headless-Nick’s deathday.' Ron explained striking a glance at McGonagall who confirmed they had had permission. 'Harry wasn’t feeling great so we were headed straight back up to the tower rather than stopping off at the kitchens when we found it.' Better to admit a minor offence of planning to be out of bounds than Harry hearing voices.

'Detention Miss Granger.' Snape said, overlapping with McGonagall removing 5 points each. They then turned to each other to argue appropriate and fair punishments while Hermione, Potter and Weasley dropped their eyes to the ground and tried to hear Dumbledore’s muttering.

'Did you notice anything strange other than the tableau?' Dumbledore turned to them just as McGonagall and Snape agreed on a detention for each of them to be served with McGonagall and the points loss to stand.

'No sir.' Hermione and Weasley said overlapping. 'Not for that corridor.' she clarified.

'My scar hurt.' Potter rubbed at said scar, 'I was distracted.’. His gaze never rose from the floor.

They were released to their respective Heads of House. Hermione endured a lecture about how much of a dunderhead she would have to be to continue failing at such a simple instruction of ‘assist Potter’ before returning to the Slytherin Common Room. 

In the common room Draco Malfoy was holding court in one corner bragging about how his father had known this was going to happen while Farley tried to get control of the House. 'No Slytherin worth their salt would be so stupid as to open Slytherin’s chamber, release the monster contained within and declare that such had happened.' she said her voice echoing around the room. 'We know no more about this than any of the other Houses.'

'My father said-' the last sentence of Malfoy bragging cut off.

'Your father would not be pleased if this is a plan of his you are talking about. Not everyone in this room is your father’s ally.' Farley’s tone was condescending. 'You are an idiot child, Malfoy. Even if this is a plan of his, your father would not share any details about his plans with you.' 

Malfoy coloured but didn’t contradict her, proving her correct. Instead he turned on Hermione, 'Hey! Mudblood! How long until the heir gets you?' 

His face was an ugly mask of unthinking hatred that shifted to rapidly paling confusion as her spell hit. 'Muggle raised, Malfoy.' she mildly corrected enforcing her correction with another punishment spell from that nasty little book by Madame Malfoy.

'Don’t be heard saying anything so painfully obvious outside Slytherin.' Farley said and Hermione escaped back to her room before she had to interact with anyone else.

The general attitude of the school was horrified excitement, with only Mrs Norris hurt their classmates were enjoying being scared without being overly concerned. Potter, worried by the voice he’d heard, was taking it far more seriously. During his long stay in the infirmary in first year Potter had read a lot of history books, including many that covered far more recent history than Binns’s textbook, an interest returned exposure to Binns’s lectures hadn’t killed going by his reading. From this extracurricular reading he knew the legend and that the Chamber had been opened fifty years previously. 'A former Slytherin headboy allegedly found the perpetrator after a student died and the petrifications stopped after the alleged perpetrator was expelled.' Harry said, 'Prefects Who Gained Power was very dubious of his claims. The alleged perpetrator was expelled but didn’t leave the school and Riddle didn’t go on to do anything else but work in Borgin and Burke’s before disappearing.'

'Reading Percy’s books?' Weasley snorted.

'A TM Riddle got a special award about then,' Hermione said, recalling her many detentions with Filch in first year. 'For unstated reasons.'

'Percy and I are sure there was more in Hogwarts: A History but he didn’t bring his version.'

'I’ve got mine.' Hermione volunteered. 'I’ll bring it to Quidditch if you're still insisting on going and watching Malfoy.'

'It’s fun.' Potter muttered. 'Everyone’s going.'

'I bet Malfoy is the heir.' Weasley interjected.

'He isn’t.' Hermione said firmly. 'He’s a braggart and I share a common room with him. He knows less about the Chamber than Potter.' Weasley looked mutinous but they changed the subject to their detention that evening and no more was discussed about the Chamber, Monster or Heir.

Detention with McGonagall was nice. She had them reversing practice transfiguration materials from the first and second year classes in her warm office while she marked essays at her desk. She allowed them to talk quietly, so Weasley’s commentary of Gryffindor’s chances at the quidditch World Cup and Potter’s comparison to the Cannon’s, obviously Weasley’s team, chances in the Championships and McGonagall’s quill scratching across parchment accompanied them. Hermione could have happily served far longer than the hour they were assigned.

The first Quidditch match of the season dawned grey and mizzling. Hermione breakfasted early avoiding Malfoy’s inevitable breakfast performance and was reading alone in the Library when Weasley Senior collected her, trailing Weasley Minor, Potter and an embarrassed looking Weasley Minimus like ducklings behind him. Gryffindor had lost the Quidditch Cup badly last year, fielding an ever worsening selection of seekers after Potter’s disastrous singular match. For this match the seeker was so bad she’d heard the Weasley twins betting on Gryffindor losing the match by over 150 points. 'I’m a better seeker than McLaggen.' Weasley Minimus was muttering as Weasley Minor glowered at her.

The game was as dire as predicted. Malfoy wasn’t a good seeker but he at least wasn’t sabotaging his own team. Weasley Senior gave up on watching the match the first time McLaggen prevented his own team from scoring and disappeared off to inspect a pretty Ravenclaw girl’s tonsils. Weasley Minimus got her ever present diary back out and began industriously scratching away the moment he left. Weasley Minor seemed bound to watch the match in abject horror at the disaster unfolding in front of him. Potter was trying to discreetly rub his scar and read the relevant sections Hogwarts: A History. Her own books left behind, Hermione found herself forced to watch as the car crash of a game got more farcical when one of the Bludgers started focusing on the Gryffindor stands. 

Rather than being able to mount a coordinated offence the Weasley twins were forced to leave one of them repeatedly batting the Bludger away just for it to dive straight back at the stands. He kept that up for ten gruelling minutes as the Bludger repeatedly returned before it flew straight into his arm snapping his bones with an audible crack. The Bludger then dove straight into the stands towards them. Automatically she and Weasley Minor stood in front of Potter and Weasley Minimus. A spell to halt projectiles was on her lips as she heard Weasley casting a basic shield. She felt the spell catch but the Bludger barely slowed in its progress towards them. She pushed more into the spell, the stands around her fading to nothing as her focus narrowed to the spell and the rapidly approaching ball. Still it approached, barely slowed. She clenched her spare hand, driving her nails into her skin and drawing blood for that extra bit of power. The world tunnelled and the ball began to slow. She knew no more.

She woke to a pained sounding yelp from her left side in an unfamiliar soft bed feeling incredibly tired but a year in Slytherin had given her reflexes that didn’t care how tired she was; she was on her feet, wand pointed at the strange house elf sponging Potter’s head before her brain had processed where she was.

'Get off!' Potter said loudly. Then recognition obviously bloomed, 'Dobby!' but Potter didn’t look pleased to see the elf.

'Harry Potter came back to school,' the elf whispered. 'Dobby warned and warned Harry Potter. Ah sir, why didn’t you heed Dobby? Why didn’t Harry Potter go back home when he missed the train?'

Potter moved to push himself up but was stuck under Dobby. Not wanting to let go of her wand Hermione cast a mild repelling charm on Dobby pushing him to the end of the bed and looped one arm around Potter to help him up. 'What are you doing here?’ Potter asked, Then he processed Dobby’s last sentence, 'You’re why the barrier stopped working. We had to apparate onto the platform.'

'Indeed yes, sir,' the elf said. 'Dobby hid and watched for Harry Potter and sealed the gateway and Dobby had to iron his hands afterwards –' he showed Potter ten, long, bandaged fingers, '– but Dobby didn’t care, sir, for he thought Harry Potter was safe, and never did Dobby dream that Harry Potter would get to school another way!’. He was rocking backwards and forwards, shaking his ugly head. 'Dobby was so shocked when he heard Harry Potter was back at Hogwarts, he let his master’s dinner burn! Such a flogging Dobby never had, sir …' Potter slumped back onto Hermione looking tired.

'Why do you want me to leave Hogwarts, Dobby?' He asked.

'Harry Potter must go home! Dobby thought his Bludger would be enough to make –'

'Your Bludger?' said Potter with Hermione echoing him, her grip on her wand tightening. 'What d’you mean, your Bludger? You made that Bludger try and kill me?'

'‘Not kill you, sir, never kill you!' said Dobby, shocked. 'Dobby wants to save Harry Potter’s life! Better sent home, grievously injured, than remain here, sir! Dobby only wanted Harry Potter hurt enough to be sent home!'

'I broke my back last year.' Potter said, 'I’m Muggle-raised we don’t get sent home except in a box.'

Potter seemed to have confused the elf for he turned to bashing his head against the bed frame. Potter tried to stop him causing Dobby to start loudly sobbing about Potter’s greatness. 

'Terrible things are to happen, are perhaps happening already, and Dobby cannot let Harry Potter stay here now that history is to repeat itself, now that the Chamber of Secrets is open once more –' Dobby wailed then grabbed Potter’s water jug from his bedside table and cracked it over his own head. 

Hermione kept her wand trained on the muttering elf on the floor certain this was going to become a situation that Snape would include under ‘Assist Potter’. Thankfully as Dobby recovered what wits he had they all heard a noise in the corridor and the elf disappeared with a crack. By the time Dumbledore was backing into the Infirmary Potter was resting back against his headboard, Hermione’s wand was away and she was pouring him a glass of water.

Dumbledore was accompanied by McGonagall and they were carrying what looked like a statue that they heaved into the bed next to Hermione’s. Noticing how distracted they were, Hermione slid back behind the curtains of Potter’s bed while Potter pretended to be asleep. 

Urgent voices came from the Matron’s office and then the clack of her shoes on the flagstones, followed by a gasp. 'What happened?' Hermione heard Madam Pomfrey whisper. 

'Another attack,' said Dumbledore. 'Minerva found him on the stairs'

'There was a bunch of grapes next to him,' said Professor McGonagall, her voice thick with emotion. 'We think he was trying to sneak up here to visit Potter.' Hermione could see Potter’s face pale. Slowly and carefully, he raised himself off the bed to peer across the Infirmary and then fell back with a moan, his eyes shiny before he squeezed them closed.

'Petrified?' whispered Madam Pomfrey. 

'Yes,' said Professor McGonagall. 'But I shudder to think … If Albus hadn’t been on the way downstairs for hot chocolate, who knows what might have …’. There was a pause then McGonagall asked, 'You don’t think he managed to get a picture of his attacker?’ Hermione gagged on the acrid smell of melted plastic. 'What does this mean, Albus?' Professor McGonagall asked urgently. Distantly part of Hermione’s mind told her that this was scarier because one of the few teachers at Hogwarts she trusted didn’t know what to do but the more rational part of her mind corrected her this was no worse than last year, even if the teachers knew what to do they could be trusted to do what was right or needed.

'It means,' said Dumbledore, 'that the Chamber of Secrets is indeed open again.’. The teachers were walking away into Madam Pomfrey’s office as they spoke. Then the door closed with a soft thud and she and Potter could hear no more.

Hermione put a hand on Potter’s shoulder. 'It’s not your fault.'

'He’s a first year.' Potter looked up at her with shiny eyes then pulled his shoulder out of her gentle grasp and rolled away from her.


	3. Fear Grows

Creevey’s petrification changed the atmosphere at Hogwarts. No longer was this a fun excitement but an actual threat to students. The traditionalists were confident that they weren’t a risk but the rest of the student population worried their squib great uncle put them too close to Muggleborn and a roaring trade in amulets and charms to protect from Slytherin’s monster developed overnight. It was an uncomfortable experience being the lone Slytherin on the Gryffindor timetable. Students who had begun talking to her without seeing her House began shying away from her. Potter was moody, blaming himself for Creevey’s petrification. She also had detentions with Filch for not ‘assisting Potter’ and a long lecture from Snape about first year spells that would have been more effective than the spell she had chosen. 

It didn’t help that she and Weasley now had to consider Lockhart not just an incompetent annoyance but a threat to Potter, whose actions had caused Potter more harm than the insane house elf hassling him. Which became rather more of a concern when it was announced Lockhart would be running a Duelling Club. Sessions would be split by year rather than house with first, second and third years combined. Hermione did not want to go, she’d read far enough through Lockhart’s novels to conclude they were works of fiction by someone who didn’t know how to correctly use third year spells, wasting her free time in a duelling club taught by Lockhart seemed pointless. However Potter and Weasley wanted to go, although their enthusiasm was dampened when the proctor was announced, and she didn’t fancy detention from Snape for leaving Potter with Lockhart so she toddled along with them wishing she’d thought to bring a book.

The afternoon got better, and worse, when Lockhart’s assistant was revealed. Together they demonstrated the disarming spell, or rather Snape demonstrated and Lockhart flailed uselessly, and then the students were separated into pairs to practice together. Snape paired her with Potter so Weasley rolled his eyes and paired with his sister who didn’t seem to be making friends in her year. The complicated twisting motion required for the disarming charm had to be fluidly executed which wasn’t possible for Potter and they hadn’t seen the theory of the charm as they normally would so they ended up experimenting unsuccessfully to find a replacement wand movement until Lockhart broke the practice session for another demonstration.

'Are you going home for Christmas?' Weasley asked while Lockhart failed to bring the hall to order. On the back wall Snape lent back and watched, a faint smirk on his face.

Hermione nodded. 'Even if my parents didn’t insist, I wouldn’t want to stay with…' she trailed off, not sure how to describe the current situation in Hogwarts.

'Percy says I’m going to the Burrow.' Potter sounded awed. She wasn’t sure he knew how much he revealed how unpleasant life with his aunt and uncle was in statements like that.

'Of course mate.' Weasley said just as Snape moved forward. The hall quietened instantly, making Weasley’s whispered, 'As if mum would let you stay at Hogwarts alone.' audible to everyone around them and drawing attention to Potter’s beauteous smile in response.

'Mr Weasley,' Snape drawled, 'thank you for volunteering.' Lockhart looked like he had swallowed a lemon. 'And I think,' Snape looked around the room, 'Mr Malfoy.'

Lockhart took over calling them up to the stage. 'We will now introduce the shield charm.' Hermione saw Weasley nod, they used a modified shield charm when practicing with Potter. Lockhart made a wide sweeping gesture nothing like the normal wand movement to cast the shield charm and dropped his wand. Snape whispered something in Malfoy’s ear. 'Three-two-one, go!' Lockhart projected.

'Serpensortia!' Malfoy bellowed. Behind him, Hermione could see Snape wince. It wasn’t an obvious change in his expression but it was one she was very familiar with being directed at her whenever he was present as she failed in her Snape assigned mission to keep Potter from harm.

Weasley cast a perfect shield charm then blinked at the large black snake that had shot out of Malfoy’s wand. 'Don’t move Weasley.' Snape said as Weasley flicked his wand moving his shield from protecting him to surrounding the snake like a smooth glass column. 'I’ll get rid of it…'

'Allow me!' Lockhart yelled. Then rather than vanishing the snake he threw it up three metres in the air and across the room to Potter. 

The snake, already unhappy, reared to bite Potter. She really was going to have to treat Lockhart as a mortal threat to Potter ran through Hermione’s mind as she automatically threw a shield around the snake. This time a dome rather than a column. Next to her Potter was hissing quietly at the snake.

'Make it a column.' Snape ordered her without looking to check her compliance and then with a flick of his wand the snake was gone. 'Club dismissed!' He hissed.

She and Weasley herded Potter into an unused classroom they used for spell practice. 'You’re a Parselmouth?' Hermione half asked, half stated.

'Parselmouth?' Potter asked.

'Parselmouths can speak to snakes.' Weasley explained.

'Sure.' Potter said, then he looked at Weasley’s white face. 'Is that a problem?'

'No.' 'Yes.' Hermione and Weasley spoke over each other. 'Parseltongue is poorly perceived in Britain but it isn’t inherently dark and you being a Parselmouth isn’t a problem.' Hermione explained.

Weasley nodded firmly at the last statement. 'Better you don’t spread it around.' He said. 'The last known Parselmouth was You-Know-Who.'

'In the UK.' Hermione clarified. 'It’s a rare ability in Northern Europe but far more common in the rest of the world.’. She was going to talk about Parselmouths in Africa and India but she made a connection. 'In the UK, Parseltongue is associated with Salazar Slytherin. Maybe you can hear the creature because it speaks Parseltongue.' 

They brainstormed for a while but none of them could come up with an immortal creature that petrified humans and animals and could melt photographic film, so they wrote the idea off. Hermione walked Potter and Weasley back to their common room and then spent ten minutes convincing one of the Gryffindor prefects that she was not trying to wander around the halls after curfew, she was a Slytherin who needed to go back to her own House before curfew. She was still late and bumped into Snape on the way, surprisingly gaining neither detention nor a lecture but instead a glowering escort.

The next morning there was a blizzard battering the castle. Herbology, Astronomy, and Care of Magical Creature classes were cancelled and students were confined to the castle. Under these circumstances Hermione would have preferred to hole up in one of the less used parts of the castle when not in class and hope the Weasley twins didn’t choose the same area but Potter and Weasley still had homework to complete before the Christmas break in the Library. As Hermione expected, the Library was filled not with its normal complement of quiet, studious Ravenclaw and the odd, similarly studious and quiet Lion, Snake and Badger but with gossiping Puffs and harried looking Lions. Indifferent to Madame Princess glare and the Lion’s increasing muttering, the Puffs were splitting their time between gossiping about who the heir could be, eagerly discussing the idea of their muggleborn Housemates being petrified and staring at Potter as he wrote with painfully slow care trying to produce a readable copy with a quill to hand in, rather than his far more easily written pencil draft.

She, Potter and Weasley managed until Weasley slammed his final book closed and glowering at the Hufflepuff contingent asked, 'Can I borrow your notes?' Hermione packed her and Potter stuff up in answer and they started making their way to a warm unused room off the main drag Hermione had found in first year. 'I thought Puffs were supposed to be kind.' Weasley said as he stumbled over something poking out of a corridor off to the side.

Weasley hit the ground hard and Hermione instinctively swung around placing the corridor wall at Potters back and herself between the threat and Potter. Then she gasped, Weasley had tripped over the rigid body of a student and floating beside him was Nearly-Headless-Nick. Nick was still as she had never seen him before and not white and pearly but black as though full of smoke. She froze, what could do that to a ghost running through her mind.

Weasley scrambled to his feet, stared at the sight before him for a second before grabbing Potter starting to power him back into the more inhabited parts of the castle. Potter moving pulled Hermione from her daze and she mutely fell in on his other side.

The first adult they bumped into was the groundskeeper. He was covered in snow and dangling a dead rooster from one fist. 'All righ’, Harry?' he said. ‘Why aren’t yeh in class?'

'Cancelled,' said Potter. 'There’s been another attack.'

'I hadn’t heard.' The groundskeeper said. 'Mind, I’ve not been in the castle much with the weather. Just come in about this.’. He held up the limp rooster. 'Second one killed this term,' he explained. 'It’s either foxes or a Blood-Suckin’ Bugbear, an’—'

Weasley cut him off. 'No, just now Hagrid. There’s been an attack. We found them.'

Hagrid proved himself a relatively useful adult to have bumped into, not panicking or flapping but calmly sending her and Potter up to get the Headmaster, 'Password’s Sherbet Lemon.' and going with Weasley back where they had found the student and Nearly-Headless-Nick. 

She and Potter were made to stay in the Headmaster’s office, a strange cluttered room, filled with books that Hermione longed to read, devices that rhythmically popped or puffed, portraits of former Headmasters and mistresses and a decrepit looking phoenix on a perch. The phoenix was the only thing in the office that interacted with them after the Headmaster left, he glided from his perch to the armrest of the chair Potter was sitting on and begged to be stroked. Over the half an hour they spent waiting for the Headmaster to return the phoenix moved from the armrest to Potter’s lap and was on Potter’s shoulder rubbing his face on Potter’s when the Headmaster returned with Weasley, Snape and McGonagall.

'It’s a shame you had to see Fawkes on a Burning Day,' said Dumbledore, as he took a seat behind his desk. 'He’s really very handsome most of the time: wonderful red and gold plumage. Fascinating creatures, phoenixes. They can carry immensely heavy loads, their tears have healing powers and they make highly faithful pets.'

Fawkes sang three bright happy notes that Hermione felt in her soul. Weasley took a seat on the other side and they weathered Dumbledore’s questions together. Potter was completely distracted by the demanding phoenix especially when Fawkes hopped on to the arm of Potter’s chair just long enough to burst into flame and emerge a wrinkly looking chick who cheeped until Potter set him in his lap. 

When she and Weasley had answered all the questions they could, Dumbledore said 'I must ask you, Harry, whether there is anything you’d like to tell me. Anything at all.' 

Potter shook his head stroking Fawkes and Dumbledore dismissed them from his office. Hermione noticed that Potter’s scar looked less irritated than she’d seen it this year. 'He’s amazing.' Potter breathed. We’re doing Care of Magical Creatures she thought.

She travelled to the train in the same carriage as Potter, Weasley Minor and Weasley Minimus and then shared the same carriage on the train. Like the journey up Weasley Minimus spent the entire trip writing in her diary and like the journey up Potter’s scar grew more and more irritated before Weasley Minor got Weasley Senior to look at it. Unlike the journey up: Weasley Minimus looked sick, Potter’s scar split and bled before Weasley Senior arrived and didn’t respond to Episky when Hermione tried, and Weasley Senior took Weasley Minimus and her diary with him when he left. After Weasley Minimus had left and Potter was looking better they exchanged Christmas gifts. She wasn’t sure how well her dip pen set for Potter and Muggle chess book for Weasley would go down and didn’t get a chance to find out there as both put them away to open on Christmas Day with their family. She was fairly certain Weasley’s gift was a chocolate frog, which she would open away from her parents, and Potter’s was undeniably a book, subject to be determined.

Mrs Weasley greeted Potter as enthusiastically as she did any of her other children. Potter’s pleased, unsure surprise at her hug tugged on bits of Hermione she was sure she’d killed last year. Weasley Senior insisted that she accompany them through to the Muggle side and meet her parents. His mother hid her pleased smile in her daughter’s head.

Her mother was reading The Telegraph on a bench on the Muggle side of King’s Cross, she wasn’t sure when her parents switched but it reflected their increasingly conservative view of the world. The next thing she knew they’d be voting UKIP in the European Elections. She shuddered mentally and waved to catch her mother’s attention, not sure if the Weasleys would be the type her mother would approve of.

'Have a good holiday, Granger.' Weasley Senior said, ruffling her hair like he would Potter or Weasley Minor. 'Stay out of trouble.' His mother huffed slightly at the use of last names.

She smiled, 'Thanks Weasley. Have a good Christmas and happy New Year.' 

Weasley Minor shook her hand, Weasley Minimus glowered at her earning a frown from her mother and lecture from Weasley Senior, and Potter seemed conflicted at what to do. Something from before Hogwarts motivated her to hug him, careful to avoid the bits of his back she knew would still be aching from the Northern Scottish winter’s day they’d left.

He smiled, the same pleased but unsure smile he’d given Mrs Weasley. 'Merry Christmas Hermione.' he said and squeezed back.

She released him and smiled back as reassuringly as she could. 'Have a great Christmas Harry. I’ll see you on the train back.' then she left waving to join her mother.

'Friends of yours?' her mother asked, eyes dragging on the Weasleys’s worn second hand clothes and how many of them there were.

'Yeah.' she said. Her mother sniffed. 'They’re a good family. Well meaning sort.’. She and her mother lapsed into a silence that lasted the entire car ride home and the rest of the evening.


	4. The Culprit Revealed

The school returned from the Christmas break cheerful in the hope that the Headmaster had taken advantage of the reduced student population to find the creature as there had been no more petrifications during the break.

The cheerful mood continued for several weeks as the term progressed without petrifications and the school seemed almost back to normal. Neither Creevey nor Finch-Fletchley were popular boys and Professor Sprout had the second years working on mandrakes, which were maturing nicely and they would soon be ready to harvest. The general consensus was that the Headmaster wanted to catch the human culprit when he refused to state that the school was safe. In Slytherin House, convincing good Wizarding students they were still in danger to promote sympathy for mudbloods was added to the consensus. Potter, Weasley and she were less convinced after their adventures with the Headmaster using the school as a secure vault last year but life returned to for the most part and it was only avoiding a group of bored Slytherin sixth years that changed anything for them.

They slipped into the bathroom Myrtle haunted and was never used to avoid them, Weasley complaining he couldn’t go into a girl’s bathroom as they did so, and nearly slipped in the flood Myrtle had created. The bathroom was dark and water had stretched further down the corridor than Hermione had seen before. The walls were wet as far up as she could see. Potter slipped and slid his way over to Myrtle’s toilet where crying could be heard from about the u-bend. Myrtle leapt from the toilet as he approached. 'Who’s that?' she screamed. 'Come to throw something else at me?'

'Why would I throw something at you?' Potter asked.

'Don’t ask me,' Myrtle shrieked. 'Here I am, minding my own business, and someone thinks it’s funny to throw a book at me …' She threw herself back down into the toilet with a wave of water that dumped a sodden black book into Potter’s hand.

'Come on,' Weasley said. 'Let’s get out of here.' He pulled Potter back towards the door.

'Sorry.' Potter called back as she and Weasley powered him out of the room hoping that enough time had passed for the Slytherins to have moved on.

They didn’t notice the sodden little book Potter was carrying until they had escaped to a preferred unused classroom. It looked rather like the journal the littlest Weasley was so engrossed in. 'I think it’s what was thrown at Myrtle.' Potter said putting it down. A cursory examination of the cover revealed it was a standard Muggle journal, remarkable only for its age. The faded date embossed on the black cover said it was from 1948. 

Potter reached out to open it but she grabbed his arm and Weasley yelped, 'Are you mad? ‘It could be dangerous.'

'Dangerous?' Potter said, laughing. 'Come off it, how could it be dangerous?'

'You’d be surprised,' Weasley said while Hermione hit the book with every detecting spell she knew. 'Some of the books the Ministry’s confiscated – Dad’s told me – there was one that burned your eyes out. And everyone who read Sonnets of a Sorcerer spoke in limericks for the rest of their lives. And some old witch in Bath had a book that you could never stop reading ! You just had to wander around with your nose in it, trying to do everything one-handed. And –'

'And there’s magic been used on this book.' Hermione interrupted. 'I can’t identify what…'

'We won’t find out anymore without looking.' Potter said. 'You could open it with a spell and Ron could cast a shield charm in case it reacts.'

She looked at Weasley and sighed, 'Fine.' with a spell used to handle fragile books she began to leaf through the pages.

The diary didn’t react to the magic being used but it also didn’t reveal very much. The first page identified the owner as T. M. Riddle, the same prefect who had supposedly caught the culprit last time the Chamber was opened, and the last that it had been bought from a newsagent’s in Vauxhall, London, other than that the diary was blank.

'Why use magic on a blank journal?' Weasley asked.

Hermione shrugged but Potter scrubbed at his scar which now that she looked at it was very red and irritated. 'I think we should give it to Percy.' he said. 'He'll know more about how to detect what’s been done to it than Hermione and if we should hand it in.' 

She and Weasley readily agreed and they trotted off to Gryffindor, Weasley carrying the diary. Weasley Senior was deep in a nasty looking essay for Flitwick when they arrived but on hearing Hermione hadn’t been able to identify what was cast on the diary he fired a series of detection spells on the diary before locking it up in his trunk until he could talk to McGonagall and sending Potter to the Infirmary to get his scar looked at.

The only disruption from the normal drudgery of early spring in Scotland was Lockhart’s continued incompetence and his decision to hold Valentine’s Day celebrations as a morale booster. All three of them were united in disgust. Lockhart had taken over the Great Hall, with the help of the elves who had still been busy being directed and told how to do their jobs when Hermione decided to skip breakfast. Large, lurid pink ‘flowers’ decorated the walls interspersed with the occasional rebellious red rose and heart shaped confetti fell continuously from the ceiling into food and drink on the table and got irrevocably stuck in Hermione’s afro. Potter and Weasley had attended breakfast and a nauseating announcement from Lockhart. 'How many people do you think Snape will poison?' Potter asked as they relayed the announcement.

'Who would send a Valentine’s card to Lockhart?' Weasley asked, incredulous at the idea.

'Your sister?' Hermione suggested. 'The twins?' they all sniggered at that and Hermione didn’t admit the nasty impulse she’d had to send him a cursed card.

Otherwise Hermione and Weasley were fairly unaffected by the festivities. Potter on the other hand was followed round the castle by a surly and violent dwarf dressed as a cupid with a delivery for him. Despite their best attempts he caught up with them near a gaggle of first years including the littlest Weasley. 

He looked like he was going to try and restrain Potter to keep him from escaping, but one look at Hermione and Weasley changed his mind. Instead he growled, 'It’s easier for both of us if you just let me make my delivery.' Potter stopped trying to escape and looking disgusted the dwarf started singing slightly off key.

They’d gathered a crowd beyond the first years including Malfoy and Weasley Senior. Malfoy was crowing at Potter’s embarrassment drawing even more of a crowd and the dwarf didn’t seem like he was going to harm anything other than Potter’s pride, so Hermione changed her focus, casting a silencing charm on Malfoy. She thought she’d cast it wrong with how quickly he went red but Weasley Senior didn’t seem worried. 

'Off you go, off you go, the bell rang five minutes ago, off to class, now,' he said, shooing the younger students away into their classrooms. 'And you, Malfoy.' 

Wesley Senior cleared the crowd and hustled them into their class without saying anything to Potter or even ruffling his hair like he normally would if they passed in the hall. He didn’t seem to see Potter’s hurt look.

Weasley Senior’s lack of interaction with Potter continued for the rest of February and Potter grew increasingly certain that he had done something to cause it. He was distracted from classes and his contributions to their notes were long lists of everything he could possibly have done to upset or anger Weasley Senior and by extension the entire Weasley family despite Weasley Minor’s repeated assertions that whatever was going on with Weasley Senior was his problem not anyone else’s.

She should have expected it. Potter had been clear that something was up with Weasley Senior. It shouldn’t have been a surprise when he walked jerkily up to her on her way back to Slytherin as curfew approached, drew his wand faster and more fluidly than she’d seen him before and silently cast something. The spell was a sickly yellow colour and smelt like ozone. The world slowed as she desperately tried to move out of its way and cast an offensive return but she wasn’t fast enough and it slammed into her side like a train. 

She didn't wait to see if her spell hit but turned and fled up increasingly dusty and musty corridors until she found a very dusty empty room where she collapsed to lick her wounds. A deep sense of betrayal overwhelmed her and none of the healing spells she knew did anything for the spreading pain in her side. Shivering and silently crying she huddled in a corner of the room her shaking wand trained on the wavering door until it disappeared from her view.

She awoke to noise, lots of it. She was lying in a nice comfortable bed, an infirmary bed she identified, while people spoke over each other, each getting louder. There was a bang that shook her bed and pushed her upright and grasping for a wand she didn’t have. She scrambled for her wand mindless of the pain she was in.

'SILENCE!' Dumbledore roared. 

In the brief stillness that followed she found her wand and gave up on standing, dropping into a crouch braced against the wall. The curtains to her cubical were open but crouched on the floor she didn’t think the group gathered around one bed could see her. Most of them were facing away from her and many were strangers to her but she recognised the Weasley Matriarch, Weasley Patriarch, Weasley’s at Hogwarts bar Weasley Senior, Potter, Dumbledore and McGonagall.

'Auror Dawlish,' Dumbledore said. 'You need to question Mr Weasley?'

A man in bright red robes facing away from her started speaking. 'You said you had killed Gilderoy Lockhart?'

'Yes.' Weasley Senior said, obviously the figure in the bed. There was a trill of music from the Headmaster’s phoenix who rose slightly between Potter and the bed. 

'Explain.' Dawlish said.

'I was given an empty muggle diary they had found in January by Harry, Ron and Granger.' Weasley Senior’s voice was cracked and worn like he’d been crying or screaming. 'Where is a Granger?'

'She’s going to be fine.' McGonagall said over Dawlish asking who Hermione was. 'The twins found her.'

'Hermione Granger, a second year Slytherin who is good friends with Harry and Ron.' Weasley explained. 'Granger had identified that the journal was under some kind of spell so they brought it to me. I recognised it as the diary that had been capturing Ginny’s attention all year and wanted to investigate further. I cast every detection spell I knew and then some kind of idiocy possessed me to write in it.'

'How does this relate to you murdering Gilderoy?' a man in lime green pinstripe robes and a bowler hat asked.

'The diary tried to take control of me.' Weasley said. 'I fought but it succeeded and I followed it’s orders to find Granger alone and curse her with a spell I’ve never heard of. I was trying so hard to fight and when Granger retaliated I broke free of its control. She fled from me, I couldn’t find her and I could feel the diary trying to reassert control. I couldn’t find Professors McGonagall or Dumbledore so I took it to Professor Lockhart hoping he as our Defence Professor would know what to do.' Weasley Senior sobbed once, Potter wriggled closer to him and Fawkes sang a reassuring note. 'I don’t know what happened from knocking on Professor Lockhart’s door and waking up in the Chamber.'

'The last spell Lockhart cast was a memory charm.' a young witch interrupted.

'What happened in the chamber?' Dawlish asked.

'Lockhart was arguing with himself.' Weasley said. 'Then he noticed I was awake and called for Slytherin’s creature. It was a basilisk.' he paused to the irritation of the man in lime pinstripe who started haranguing him to continue. 'I ducked behind a pillar, closed my eyes and hoped for something to save me while Lockhart argued with himself.'

'Yes, yes.' the man in lime said. He pulled something out of his pocket.

'If you need to be somewhere Cornelius.' Dumbledore said. 'I’m sure John can take it from here. The Auror’s will have to descend into the Chamber to verify Percy’s story.'

The man in lime blustered for a bit about how important he was while Dawlish assured him that he was capable of doing his job before the pompous man hustled out, 'We’ll have a press conference this evening announcing the threat has been dealt with and the culprit apprehended.' he said as he left.

'Go on Percy.' Dumbledore said taking advantage of the reduction in people to conjure himself a comfortable armchair. Hermione was beginning to shake in her crouched position and lean more heavily against the wall.

'Fawkes came to me carrying the Sorting Hat. I drew Gryffindor’s sword from the hat and Fawkes blinded the basilisk. Lockhart was still arguing with himself about how to take over the world and ordering the basilisk around. It seemed confused so I snuck behind Lockhart and used him as a shield. The basilisk bit him and I stabbed it in the eye while it was caught on Lockhart.' Weasley Senior had started his narration calmly but by the final sentence he was rushing and each sentence was punctuated with a sob. 'Then Fawkes carried me out of the Chamber and we met Professor McGonagall.'

'Thank you for your statement.' Dawlish said. 'Sign on the bottom if you agree this is an accurate transcription.’. There was a pause. Hermione could feel something warm and damp running down her side. Then Dawlish and the young woman turned to leave.

'Wait!' Weasley said. 'What about Granger?'

'That’s a Hogwarts matter.' The young woman said and they left with Headmaster Dumbledore.

Hermione was really shaking now. 'What is going to happen?' Weasley Senior asked. Fawkes had stayed behind sitting on Weasley Senior’s lap and demanding attention and now trilled happily.

'Do you need to change your statement in any way?' McGonagall asked. Hermione saw Weasley shake his head and loop an arm around Harry’s shoulders. 'Then there is no punishment for actions carried out while possessed. You will have detention for not handing confiscated items in and that will be considered when we choose headboy next year.' 

Weasley nodded. 'Will Granger really be okay?'

'Your brothers saved her life,' the Weasley Matriarch said. 'And shared a very important artefact that was why the Professor’s knew where to find you and Fawkes. I’m so proud of them.' she smiled at and hugged the Weasley twins tightly. Hermione felt very faint.

'She’ll never trust me again.' Weasley Senior moaned as Hermione felt consciousness drift away from her again.

She woke up in an infirmary bed, her wand under her pillow, and something heavy resting on the bed by her side. When she made her eyes focus through the groggy sensation, the heavy something turned out to be Weasley Senior. She shifted in pain and he woke and ran to get Madame Pomfrey. 

Madame Pomfrey returned alone and accompanied her assessment with a lecturer about getting out of bed when she was given permission and tearing open wounds the Madame had worked hard to close. She was, according to the Madame, very lucky to be alive thanks doubly to a Weasley. The twins for giving up an artefact they had in their position that revealed her location after she was cursed and Weasley Minor for noticing she was out of bed, unconscious and bleeding after she first woke up. However the Madame wanted to keep her in over the weekend to finish recovering so she was released, in a clean uniform and with correct books for her classes on Monday morning.

The rumour mill had had a chance to thoroughly digest her, Weasley Senior, and Lockhart’s disappearances. Malfoy looked positively disappointed to see her in their first combined class, 'Worst luck' she heard him say, 'the mudblood survived.' 

Potter and Weasley on the other hand seemed extremely relieved to see her outside their first class. 'Madame Pomfrey wouldn’t let us visit.' Potter said. 

'Not even when Harry sat outside the infirmary for two hours on Sunday.' said Weasley. 'She said you needed your rest and she’d give us detention if we kept bothering her.'

Potter suddenly pulled her into a tight hug that pulled at her still sore side. 'I’m glad you’re okay, Hermione.' He said.

'We found the writing on the wall outside Myrtle’s bathroom.' Weasley looked very pale. '‘Their bodies will lie in the Chamber forever’' he quoted, 'and no one could find you or Percy until the twins bought out this map they had.' Weasley cut off and abruptly looked away.

'Professor McGonagall said if they hadn’t you would have died before anyone found you.' Harry said leaning heavy weight against her good side and trapping her wand arm making her feel claustrophobic. 'She confiscated the map and gave them fifty points each.' Flitwick entered their class and thankfully the awkward conversation drew to a halt.

That was the only time anyone directly addressed what had happened with her. She had to return to the Hospital Wing twice a day for potions for a month but Madame Pomfrey was busy with a spring cold circulating Hogwarts and took the minimum time necessary to examine Hermione and medicate her. Life at Hogwarts trickled back to normal although minus a DADA Professor. The monster was definitely dead and no longer a threat to students. The front page photograph in the Daily Prophet reassuring even the least certain students. The two students petrified hadn’t been revived yet but they slid from the majority of the student population's mind without the threat of joining them.

Just before the start of the Easter Holidays the second years were given something new to think about, their optional classes. The forms were due back signed by their guardians after the holidays to give them time to discuss with them. Hermione wasn’t quite sure what input they expected Muggle parents to have in to choosing between Divination and Arithmancy or what students like Zabini staying for the Easter Holidays were supposed to do. She didn’t have to think about her choices though, Professor Snape made it clear that she would be doing whichever courses Potter chose. 

Weasley Senior pulled her, Potter and Weasley Minor aside to discuss their courses the evening they were handed out. 'Do you know what the classes are?' he asked. Hermione shrugged still feeling uncomfortable around him but Potter readily admitted he had no idea what the classes on offer were and even Weasley Minor admitted he wasn’t sure of the exact differences between the classes. 'Care of Magical Creatures, Ancient Runes and Muggle Studies are self explanatory. In Care of Magical Creature you learn about Magical Creatures, it’s a great class if you are interested.' Wealsey Minor nodded eagerly and Hermione remembered Potter’s instant rapport with the Headmaster’s phoenix. 'Ancient Runes is the study of runic languages, it’s really useful if you’re interested in history but a difficult class.' Potter lit up at the idea. 'Muggle Studies is the study of how Muggles differ from Wizards. Probably not useful for either Harry or Granger and not a useful class in general unless you want a career that involves lots of interaction with Muggles. Even then the syllabus is more out of date than Binn’s classes.' They all winced and Weasley Minor crossed Muggle Studies of the list Weasely Senior had placed in the center of the table. 'Arithmancy and Divination are both about predicting the future. Divination is traditional foreseeing the future whereas Arithmancy uses maths and magic to predict the future.'

'Divination is an easy subject, isn’t it?' Weasley Minor asked. Hermione could see Care of Magical Creatures already written in his form.

'Not unless you have the gift.' Weasley Senior replied. 'If you have the some amount of Sight, which you won’t know until you start studying Divination, then it’s an easy subject. If you don’t then you have to have the theory down to compensate and you will never do well on the practical assignments. It was easily my hardest O.W.L and I only got an Acceptable.' Weasley Senior sighed. 'If you’re only interested in Care, Ron, and you want an easy class to drop after O.W.L.s then take Muggle Studies.'

Potter was nibbling on the end of his dip pen uncertainly. 'Would I be able to do Care?' he asked. Hermione scratched Care of Magical Creatures on to her form and swung it so Potter could see. He smiled minutely but still looked worried.

‘I don’t see why not.’ Weasley Senior said and then turned to Hermione. ’What about you Granger?'

She shrugged again. 'Doesn’t matter.' Weasley Senior pushed but she didn’t add anything until Potter joined in. 'I’m doing what Harry’s doing.' she said. 'Snape says so.'

'You don’t want to do Care of Magical Creatures.' Potter said. 'What do you want to do?'

She shrugged again but he pushed for an answer. 'Care sounds interesting.' she reassured him but he continued looking mutinous. 'I don’t mind, Harry. I’d rather not do Muggle Studies or Divination.' Potter nodded and wrote Ancient Runes. 

'Put Arithmancy down as well Granger.' Weasley Senior said. 'You can take three subjects and Arithmancy won’t clash with Ancient Runes or Divination.' he stood ruffling each of their hair in turn. Hermione wanted to pull away but made herself say still.

Hogwarts split for another holiday, again she, Potter and Weasley Minor travelled on the train together with Weasley Minimus who was quiet and sulky but less red and squeaky in Potter’s presence. Weasley Senior insisted on walking through the barrier to meet her father this time. Her father was less judgemental of the Weaselys than her mother. He was the parent designated to pay attention to her this holiday and was a lot more tolerant of Potter’s gorgeous owl delivering letters from Potter and Weasley Minor and a delicious miniature simnel cake from the Weasley Matriarch. Her father and she conspired to eat it before her mother returned home and cleaned their teeth thoroughly afterwards. What her mother didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her. They giggled together and talked about the books they were reading. It was almost like before she started Hogwarts.

Returning to Hogwarts it felt like the teachers were trying very hard to pretend that the last year had been normal. The rapidly approaching O.W.L.s, N.E.W.T.s and end of year tests were the focus of every class. Even their Defence classes taught by a rotating cast of the other Professors in the school, including Professor Trewlany. Hermione, Harry and Weasley were very glad not to have signed up for Divination after the first class she taught. No mention was made of the empty space on the Hufflepuff side of the greenhouse or the Creevey kid spending his first year petrified in the Infirmary although Filch still moped around the castle. Nor any mention of Weasley Minimus spending most of her first year on close terms with an avatar of the young Voldemort. 

'Dumbledore won’t explain what the diary was or how he did it.' Potter moaned. 'Or what we should do about Ginny. We should be more friendly to her. I’m sure she’s lonely.' he looked unsure. 'Maybe that will help.' he looked across the room at her solitary figure. Hermione and Weasley agreed but the volume of homework the teachers were setting meant more time wasn’t much more time. Still the effort was made and noticed by Weasley Senior who praised Potter for his consideration and dragged the twins into Operation Cheer Up Weasley Minimus.

The term rushed by and before they knew it they were sitting at the end of year feast with the newly revived Creevey and Finch-Fletchley blinking in confusion. She, Potter, and Weasley rode the train back with the littlest Weasley, as had become their norm and separated on the Muggle side of King’s Cross, Hermione to her mother and Potter and Weasley to the Burrow. 

'We’ll write.' Weasley promised shaking her hand.

'Maybe you could come over for a bit?' Potter suggested shyly as they hugged.

'Sounds good, Harry.' she replied expecting nothing to come of it and joined her disapproving mother. Her mother sniffed and Hermione felt the grinding halt of her normal life ending as her Muggle summer began.


End file.
